


a moment to herself

by architecture_in_f1ll0ry



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: F/F, Masturbation, One-Sided Attraction, or not I mean who is to say, our great uniter just needs to unwind sometimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:40:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26236549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/architecture_in_f1ll0ry/pseuds/architecture_in_f1ll0ry
Summary: Kuvira only has 20 minutes.
Relationships: Baatar Jr./Kuvira (Avatar), Korra/Kuvira (Avatar)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 106





	a moment to herself

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sorry.

She’s going to have to be quick.

There’s a strategy session with her top officials in twenty minutes, and the compound is a five minute walk away. But she’s been dangerously on edge all morning; frustrated by the way their progress has slowed, the few outlier states bolstered by the Avatar’s return, likely hopeful that she will swoop in to deliver them from Kuvira. Fools. As if the Avatar had the experience or knowledge of how to actually rule, as opposed to just fling the elements around and crown herself hero for a day. As if these sniveling leaders would be able to withstand the power of Kuvira's army, her technology, her _will_ , when for so long they’d suffered the failings of their own incompetence, noses scraping the dirt, when left to their own devices. 

And this is why she rarely does this, because it’s so easy to get wrapped up in her own head, forever working through her numerous obstacles, trying to drown out the constant low-level buzz of _what’s next, what’s next, what’s next._ She’s more than overdue for a moment to herself, a moment to shut her brain off, if just for a little while.

And if this timing and setting are a little unorthodox, she reasons, double-checking the lock on her office door, peeling off the top layer of her uniform, then so fucking be it. 

She slumps gratefully into her chair and spreads her legs, head falling back and eyes slipping shut as she brings one hand to her mouth, capturing the end of a glove between her teeth and yanking it off, tossing it onto her desk before brushing her hand against the juncture of her thighs. Slouches further and opens her legs wider at the bracing touch, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth as her pulse jumps at the first creeping tendrils of pleasure, warmth pooling low in her stomach. 

Shit, the window!

Her eyes fly open as she whirls around to slam the blinds shut where before they’d been slatted open, probably not revealing much to anyone who happened to be passing by outside, but still jarring enough to ratchet her heart rate up for a few seconds. She releases a short, rueful laugh as she settles back down, briefly entertaining the horrible thought of General Kuvira, the Great Uniter, being discovered with her hand down her pants like some horny adolescent. This sends another spark of arousal through her, and she decides not to examine it too deeply; just closes her eyes again and rubs herself with a little more purpose, exhaling slowly through her nose. Ugh, she would never hear the end of it from Baatar, though he’d also be delighted, probably, as he's always encouraging her to tap into her ‘sexual side,’ as if their occasional misadventures in their darkened quarters were insufficient.

Well, of course they were, but she was entirely too preoccupied to do much about that, at least, right now.

Kuvira’s brows furrow as she gives a slight shake of her head, feeling her libido start to wane. She doesn’t want to think about Baatar right now. She feels a very fleeting pinprick of guilt for the thought, but this isn’t about _feelings_ right now, it’s about chasing down whatever animal brain impulses will give her some release, full stop. Even _if_ Baatar is her fiancé and most trusted ally, her brilliant co-conspirator in this quest to bring the scattered Earth Kingdom states to heel—especially now, with the Avatar back in town, relatively speaking, hell-bent on hampering her progress.

Fuck. Kuvira stridently ignores the sudden spike of lust that jolts through her as she pictures the Avatar—Korra—the way she’d watched Kuvira thoughtfully, carefully, that day they’d struck a truce. She’d looked so different, and it wasn’t just the haircut, the shortened strands grazing her jaw; it was the way she’d held and conducted herself, a far cry from the headstrong, brash young woman Kuvira had secretly admired years before. It’s almost too embarrassing to stomach, but her mind is a speeding train that Kuvira has no chance of slowing down: cheeks pink as she slides a hand into her pants, breath hitching as she goes straight for her clit, massaging it slowly, teasingly, as she just gives in, helplessly dissecting her memories for parts: Korra’s bare, muscled arms, gleaming with sweat; her cocksure sideways grin and raucous laughter, though never directed toward Kuvira (why would it be?); the coiled strength in her stance, containing millennia of cosmic knowledge and power. That goddamn light blue tank top, the way it stretched tight across her gorgeously chiseled back, to say nothing of the way it strained in the front—

Kuvira has to quickly shove her other fist against her mouth to contain her low groan as she angles her hips up, her fingers a blur as her pleasure mounts exponentially. Her breath speeds up as her cunt throbs again and again, clenching hungrily at nothing, and she grimaces a bit as she feels wetness soaking her underwear but she would rather die than stop now, on the brink of a more satisfying orgasm than she’s had in...well. A very long time.

“Fuck,” she can't hold it in this time, whimpering softly, the chair straining beneath her as she arches her back, hoping no one heard the loud bang as her knee knocks against her desk. She certainly hadn't planned on touching Korra’s shoulder that day, but in the moment, it felt like the right thing to do, and now, she’s convinced it was the pathway to her downfall, because she can still feel the soft material covering warm skin, as if Korra is there right now— _spirits_ —letting Kuvira push her down, down—her eyes, so big and the deepest blue, fixed on Kuvira as she acquiesces, lowering herself slowly, deliberately, to her knees, a finger placed against her smirking lips—opening Kuvira's legs, gripping the meat of her thighs—how she would look peeling away her soaked underwear, opening her mouth to lave her tongue against Kuvira’s—

_“Korra,”_ she moans quietly before she can hold it in, the immediate, intense curl of shame only intensifying the overpowering wave of ecstasy as she finally brings herself over the edge, flushing red-hot as she shudders and jerks against her fingers, toes curling in her boots. Her orgasm holds her suspended for what feels like a short eternity, sweat beading along her forehead as she again has to conceal her gasps against her other hand, teeth biting into her palm as she continues to slowly stroke her clit, wringing out every last drop of pleasure.

A sudden knock at the door cuts cruelly through the descending fog, and she jumps, quickly withdrawing her hand, wiping it against her pant leg, and sits up, adjusting her clothing. She takes one calming breath, and then another, forcefully dispelling the images that had flooded her mind mere minutes before. “What is it?”

“Kuvira?” Of course, it's Baatar. She rolls her eyes; who else would be in her office with the door closed? “I have a report from Commander Guan; I thought you’d want to hear it before we meet with the rest.” There’s a faint click, then a short rattle. “Did you...lock the door?”

She’s already standing, pulling on her uniform jacket and buttoning it quickly, smoothing down her hair and finally crossing the room to let him in. He gives her a puzzled look, then glances around. “Report? Tell me it's good news.”

“Are you alright?” he asks curiously, instead of answering, following her in to sit in his normal chair. “You look flushed.”

“Yes, I’m fine. It's just a little hot.” She resumes her seat, waves a lazy, unconcerned hand at him. And feels—not exactly _fear_ , but something not too far off from concerned apprehension, at the apparently deep-seated desire she’d just unwittingly unearthed. No time for that now, however. “So, Commander Guan. You were saying?” 

"Why is one of your gloves off?"

**Author's Note:**

> shout out to samthor, whose art of kuvira having a very private moment was extremely inspiring.


End file.
